The Greatest Soul Taken
by Drow Elf
Summary: How Artemis Entreri came to be the ruthless assassin we know today. R&R please!


**Disclaimer: All of R.A. Salvatore's characters belong to…R.A. Salvatore. All my characters belong to me. Understand?**

_**The Greatest Soul Taken**_

**Chapter One**

_End Training_

Karde was sweating, and rightly so. "Just two more days, sir," he pleaded, trying not to sound too much like he was pleading. "You'll have your money in just two more days. There's no need to kill little old me."

The infamous Pasha Pook did not even bother to look at the man; he was too busy being fed by a gorgeous, dark-skinned young woman dressed in only sheer fabrics. "You told me two days two days ago. Do you have any idea how weary I get when I get multitudes of miserable fools and failures like you streaming through here asking for an extension every day? I have a reputation to live up to. I've got to kill someone sometime or someone will think I'm going soft. If that happens, then I'm more than likely to have _my _throat slit. Do you appreciate my dilemma?"

Karde hesitated, and then offered a noncommittal grunt, afraid to either agree or disagree.

Pook (thoroughly engaged in his activity) did not answer, and Karde allowed his eyes to sweep the room. Giant eunuchs guarded the doors, as usual. The rest of the room, however, was empty of people except for four individuals on the far side, all watching him like oversized birds of prey.

The obvious eldest stood in the back. His snowy white beard reached halfway down his abdomen, and his garments were decorated by symbols of Deneir. Karde guessed this was a cleric of Deneir. A fabulous, jeweled dagger hung at the cleric's belt.

Next was an impressive, tall, blonde youth about nineteen years old whose pale skin marked him from the north, perhaps all the way to the Spine of the World and Waterdeep. He carried himself with easy, cocky confidence. A bow and quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. Karde knew without doubt that the boy could pepper him with arrows before the man could register the first arrow being drawn.

Karde shivered and appraised the next boy, who was tall to the point of being lanky and covered from head to toe in ridiculous robes with designs of moons and stars. This, undoubtedly, was a boy in an apprenticeship to be a wizard. Karde darkly wondered what magical horrors the boy had learned in this most foul, albeit beautiful, of places.

Karde nervously shifted to the fourth, and most curious, of the quartet. By far the smallest, the fourth sported the heavily tanned skin and dark hair of a native of Calimshan. Karde guessed him to be around fifteen or sixteen, and instinctively knew him to be the most dangerous of the lot, with the possible exception of the old man. The boy's dark eyes studied Karde relentlessly, making him feel exposed and naked before the piercing gaze. He wished the boy would look away, or even _blink _for the gods' sakes! A graceful saber and a deadly stiletto rested casually, conspicuously from the boy's belt, both seeming to silently clamor for Karde's blood. The boy noticed him staring and offered him a surprisingly handsome smile. Too bad it reminded Karde so much of a shark he had seen once on the Sword Coast.

Karde was so unnerved that he didn't hear Pook when the pasha finally deigned to speak.

"S-sorry, what was that?" stammered Karde, trembling now.

Pasha Pook scowled at him, possibly the worst omen Karde had ever witnessed. "I said, Karde, that I am willing to pardon you this one last time. You say that your contact will visit you tomorrow morning?"

"Yes," said Karde, wishing quite fervently that the man in question was more than a desperate lie he had made up. "He has money that is owed to me, which I shall then turn over to you. Thank you, O great Pasha Pook. You are merciful as well as wise."

"Don't tell me what I am," snapped Pook. "I've heard enough of such groveling and flattering to last me more than a hundred lifetimes. You will spend the night here and meet your man in the morning. I expect the gold in my hand in twelve hours."

Karde's smile involuntarily faltered for a second before he forcibly bolstered it up. "Of course, sir, where might my quarters be?"

Pook clapped his hands twice, and a halfling stepped politely into the room. "This is Regis, a very able thief," said Pook, smiling at the halfling rather fondly. "He will show you to your quarters, won't you, Regis?"

"Yes sir, I'd be delighted." With that, the halfling, Regis, beckoned to Karde and showed him out of the room.

After the door had closed, Pook looked over to the people standing on the far side. "Artemis, your opinion?"

"He's going to make a run for it," said the smallest boy without hesitation. "Tonight."

"Then you know what to do," said Pook. "Your training ends tonight. No sounds, and as little mess as possible, if you please. You do want to start your profession professionally, do you not?"

"I do," said Artemis, smiling his devil's smile, like an honorable rogue who happened upon an exquisite damsel in distress. "You won't be disappointed."

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Karde did not manage a wink of sleep. He had to run for it. It couldn't be too hard. Sure, there were guards at all the doors, but all he had to do was burst out of his room and leap out the nearest window and hope he didn't break anything vital when he hit the ground. It would hurt, sure, but it would be worth it if he could get out of this unfortunate situation alive. He would lay low and take the first ship north. Everyone went north when hiding from a guild.

All he needed now was to pluck up the courage to implement his plan.

His sheets, pillow, and bedspread were positively drenched in sweat.

Though he was fully alert, he did not notice the door to his room ease silently open, nor did he perceive the undersized shadow creeping toward him.

The last thing he saw before a razor-sharp stiletto was slid expertly into his throat was the flash of white teeth in the darkness, a smile that promised nothing but death.


End file.
